lessons
by jaime-lannisters
Summary: COMPARED TO THIS, I'VE NEVER FELT ANYTHING / in which molly writes, lysander acts, and love happens. —mollylysander, muggle!au. nextgen armada #1


**disclaimer**: disclaimed.

**written for**: next-gen armada #1

**notes**: muggle!au — writer!molly, actor!lysander (lorcan as well, actually), (publishing)agent!roxanne, (film)agent!scorpius. lysander's flatting in palo alto, where they are filming the film.

* * *

**molly/lysander**

x

_and i would take feeling this for all eternity over happiness for a second _  
_because compared to this, i haven't felt a single fucking thing in my life_

* * *

He's Lysander and she's Molly and they're the kind of romance that makes eternity seem short.

**x**

"No, listen, I'm not changing it—"

"Molly, but they've got—"

"I don't care who they've got! I wouldn't change it even if they got a _Scamander_ brother—"

"They did, though, Molly. Should I tell them you're not interested?"

"_What_? They got a Scamander?"

"Yep. Lysander, to be exact. Listen, he's interested but this is a tentative basis, so we need to entice him quick—"

"_Entice_ him? Isn't the book meant to—"

"That's what got him _interested_, Molly, and we've really got to sell it to him if we want him in. He could really make this film. I've scheduled a meeting on Tuesday afternoon, two on the dot. So, last chance, Molly: cancel or keep?"

"..."

"..."

"I suppose I'd best find something nice to wear."

"'Atta girl."

**x**

The first time they meet, it's a Tuesday and the coffee room is full of bustling people, all too busy to notice the handsome young man with the amused half-smile.

She approaches with her cousin-turned-agent, Roxanne, who's already made eye contact with his agent, Scorpius.

With a crooked grin, he leans forward from his seat and holds out his hand, introducing himself. "Lysander."

Petting down her peachy dress, the latest in LA summer fashion, she answers, "I'm Molly," before taking his hand and shaking. She sits opposite him, Roxanne on her left and Scorpius opposite Roxanne, completing the circle.

"So. Why should I be part of this production?" Lysander immediately asks, his arrogant tone making her want to whack him as much as his beauty makes her want to kiss him. Thankfully, she manages to keep both impulses under control.

"Why wouldn't you?" Roxanne answers smoothly. "It's a fantastic novel—a bestseller, in fact—and it already has a loyal fanbase. Coming into this project can only help you."

"Unless it flops," Scorpius points out, before shooting Molly an apologetic smile. She understands; he has to do the best for his client. Still, it's somewhat insulting.

"Yes, what then? How can we know that this storyline is strong enough to be translated to the big screen?" Lysander breaks in, with an apparently professional glance at Molly, though she can read the mischief beneath the façade.

_He's enjoying himself_, she realises. _The rotten bastard..._ Clearing her throat, she says, "Well, I'm no expert, but the millions of fans seem to think it's strong enough."

Lysander sends her a crooked smile. "What about the character... Jack?"

She grits her teeth. She'd hoped this wouldn't come up. "What about him?" she asks, annoyed.

"Why is Jack a he?" he asks politely.

Molly stares at him. "Because he's a _boy_," she enunciates.

"I want Jack to be a girl," he says.

"Are you crazy? It's my book; why does Jack need to be a girl? Why would we change—" she starts, before being interrupted by Scorpius.

"Actually, the character's gender is never discussed in the book. As Jack is a unisex name, it could go either way," he points out.

She doesn't actually have a problem with a female Jack—it would improve the film, to be honest—but the way Lysander demands it of her makes her feel like she's five again, petulant and stubborn.

"No," she tells him. "If you want a female Jack, write your own book."

With that, she leaves.

Behind her, Lysander is chuckling.

**x**

"I'll do it."

"You'll— what?"

"I'll do it. Even if Jack isn't a girl. Which _would_ make the film better, let's be honest."

"I- I'll do my best. I suppose I ought to inform Molly—"

"No, let it be a surprise. I can't wait to see her face."

**x**

The next time they meet, it's the fifth day of shooting. She's mentioned a female Jack to the director—after forbidding Roxanne to tell the arrogant Scamander, should their paths ever again cross—and is happy with the choice: a petite blonde actress named Elisabeth.

She's finding herself a coffee—thoroughly believing in not making one's agents and assistants be one's slaves—when she walks into a man holding a coffee, causing him to spill it on himself.

"Oh my god, I'm so sor—" she begins, her apology dying on her lips when she sees the man. Next to them, the director fusses over the white shirt.

"Molly, this is Lysander, our actor for Sebasti—" he's saying, before Lysander interrupts him with a wicked grin at Molly.

"We've met," he says. The director runs off to find him a new shirt, and Lysander turns to Molly, who's still speechless. "What, lead actors are against your policy for apologising?" he teases.

She blinks. "No, I'm sorry, I just—" she breaks herself off, before starting again, a bit stiffly, "I just didn't expect to see you on my set."

His eyebrows shoot into his hair. His lovely, dark, curly hair that she just wants to run her hands through and-

"Your set, huh?" he asks, interrupting her rather disturbing train of thought. "Didn't realise it was your set. I'd best notify the producers and director and crew, then?"

She blushes slightly. "I just meant that it's my story and I thought you'd made it clear that you weren't coming on without us adhering to your every command," she mutters.

He grins cheekily. "Well, your exit was too interesting for me to not come on board," he teases her. "Besides, they decided to change it after all—funny coincidence, huh?"

His gaze suddenly feel heavier than it should on her, and she bristles. "Artistic license," she says, refusing to admit that he was right. "Excuse me, but I really must be off. Scenes to watch, costumes to approve, oxygen to convert."

He watches her as she stalks off, his gaze never faltering.

**x**

"Why didn't you _tell_ me that he had been cast?"

"I didn't want to stress you ou—"

"Don't give me that rubbish, Roxanne! Ugh. He's so aggravating! With his stupid arrogance and stupidly good-looking face and—"

"He is very good looking."

"Roxanne! _Not_ helping."

"Just an observation!"

**x**

The next time she runs into him, she's prepared, and the time after that and the time after that.

"Good morning," he greets, handing her a steaming cardboard cup of coffee.

She raises an eyebrow. "Scorpius?" she asks, thinking his assistant did it, despite the fact that Scorpius really doesn't strike her as the sort of lackey that would be willing to make coffees for his clients, no matter how famous they may be. He'd get along with her cousin Rose, she thinks.

"Starbucks," he corrects with an easy smile, making her snort.

"Cheers," she gratefully accepts.

"I suppose today's your favourite scene, which is why you're here so early?" he asks, a familiar smirk playing at his lips.

She stares, confused, wracking her brains for the day's schedule. The truth dawns on her as the blush dawns on her cheeks. Today's the day of his character's nude scene. Oh. "I assure you," she starts, embarrassed, "that is _not—_"

His laugh cuts her off. "Of course it isn't," he winks. "Well, anyway, Molly, I need to start... preparing," he tells her, before heading off in the direction of his dressing room, whistling a jaunty tune.

She rolls her eyes at his arrogance, but can't help the fondly exasperated smile creeping up on her.

**x**

"You like him."

"Shut up, Rox."

"Oh my God, you do!"

"Shut _up_, Rox!"

**x**

They argue, too.

It's the last runs of filming, and there are late nights and last minute screenplay and script changes. By now, they're friends, of the tentative sort with too much chemistry to be better friends.

Late at night, though, tempers run rampant and worst qualities are oft-revealed.

"It's three in the fucking morning," he complains after the eighth round of coffee for the team of writers, agents, actors and crew.

She glares at him. "Yes, we're all aware," she snaps.

He holds his hands up. "Hey, princess, it's your story. You get to call the shots and let us all go."

"It's not that simple, and you know it!" she barks, massaging her temples.

"Yes, it is," he argues. "If you could just make a fucking decision—"

"If you weren't so arrogant as to think that everything should go your way, we wouldn't be having this problem!" she shouts.

"I'm arrogant? _I'm_ arrogant? Who's the one that can't take any direction, from anybody?" he retorts.

She feels like he's slapped her. "Excuse me? Can't take direction? Who do you think told the director to make Jack a female?" she demands.

"I wouldn't know, because you can't ever admit that you're wrong!" he roars back.

Roxanne interrupts before Molly can lash out at him. "Look, it's three in the morning, we've been working for hours and there's way too much tension. Both of you, go out. Run. Sleep. Hit something. I don't care. Just take a break," she orders.

They glare at each other mutinously, and then Lysander whirls around, flings his jacket over his shoulder and stalks out.

Molly falls into a seat and stays there, sobbing without tears and unresponsive to everyone else.

**x**

"Molly—"

"I don't want to talk about it, Roxanne."

"Molly, you need—"

"I _said_ I don't want to talk about it!"

"Molly, for fuck's sake! Just apologise."

"You think _I_ need to apologise?"

"I think someone does, and to be perfectly honest, you were out of line."

"He said—"

"He was tired! We all were! We were barely functioning, and then you went and called him arrogant for telling you the truth."

"I just want to be alone."

"Yeah, well, that's not going to be a problem."

**x**

He drinks and she ignores the world and that's how they survive.

**x**

"I'm lonely."

**x**

The film's nearly finished; she hands out the revised script, and he takes it without a word, without a glance.

They're filming the final scene, where his character tells Jack the final message.

He turns to face Elisabeth, who looks suitable upset at her friend's fate, and he looks straight over her shoulder, past the camera, and Molly could swear he's staring right at her when he delivers his last lines.

"It's all right—you're the only one I could ever imagine dying for. It's not my fault, but I'm sorry anyway."

Cue Elisabeth's final line as Jack: "Why are you sorry?" she asks, voice filled with tears.

Lysander smiles bravely and in that moment he is truly his character, Nick. He is Nick and he is Lysander and he is everybody that's ever forgiven someone and it's beautiful. "Because that's what you do when you love someone. You forgive them and you say sorry, even when it's nobody's fault. You accept the blame because you love them more than they love themselves."

She doesn't realise it until she feels her cheeks, but she's crying.

**x**

"Scorpius?"

"Oh, hi Molly."

"What's Lysander's address?"

"... I'll drive you."

**x**

It's midnight and it's dark and the streets are cold, even in Palo Alto, and she's only in a shift and _wow_, this was a really bad idea—

"We're here," Scorpius announces as they step onto Lysander's lawn.

She shivers. Okay. She can do this. She places the stereo down on the ground and clicks play. She doesn't even _like_ this song, but hey, it'll get his attention.

"Are you from out of space?" she begins singing along to Hunter Parrish.

She's halfway through the song when Lysander sticks his head out the window, and she's nearly finished when he walks out the door. She finishes, and uses her foot to turn off the stereo. The silence seems infinite, and the few metres between them feel like galaxies.

"Hi," she says, her throat dry.

He raises an eyebrow. "Did you just serenade me by telling me I was a first class flight?" he questions, by way of greeting.

She shrugs, trying to appear nonchalant. "Uh, I guess s—" she starts to say, but is cut off by his lips suddenly on hers, his arms encircling her waist as he holds her up.

"Um. Wow," she says, still in a state of shock as she stares down at him.

"Hi Molly," he says, grinning up at her. "My name's Lysander, and I'm horribly arrogant, I hate bananas and I once read this great book that taught me a lot about life and made me want to meet the girl that wrote it."

"Hi Lysander, I'm Molly," she says when she finds her voice, "and there's this guy I know, with curly brown hair and chocolate-coloured eyes and a habit for making me want to punch him and kiss him at the same time, and he taught me a lot about love. I'd really like to get to know him better."

And when he smiles, it's like she's chanced upon her forever.

**x**

He's Lysander and she's Molly and they're the kind of romance that makes eternity seem short, but they'll cherish it forever.

* * *

**a/n: **please review, and if you wish to favourite, please don't without reviewing!


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